Incarcerated, for years,
a tough man – banged up
lay in his peter, night after night.
Regretting, the events
that tore him apart from the kids
Night after night at lock-down,
brought on the silent sobbed tears.
Sharp eyed screws held his grey days anger limited time association, set his standing
among the other- established villains.
Wielding the sock, that the pool ball held
that violent cosh, “sorted” his landing.
Family visits were hard to cope with
his daughter – wide eyed and a little afraid
strange surroundings, clad with iron locked doors.
Empty soft footsteps across, cold busy floors.
Only with night dreams, colour came back
welcome visions of a previous life.
In time, smiles crossed his pillow.
As letters held words, he would send.
Thoughts, raced across paper
he couched words cleverly
his fifteen year old would see some tomorrow
but, one day would understand – better later.
Letters flowed, as times sentence passed
and time at last saw that little girl grow
the old lag – her Dad, eventually crashed
a girl put those loving letters away.
Nineteen years, those letters lay…
not forgotten but – day by day…
that girl brought to mind her Dads lost thought years
Only to read, through crying eyed tears.